Random day

So today, I'm at the Starbucks and I'm sitting there, drinking my frappucino and reading PDF proofs and a girl there mentions how she is looking forward to working at home.
I glance up and tell her how much I love working at home or at the Starbucks. So we start chatting and she works for some place downtown, a non-profit, but she's leaving this Friday to do freelance and figure out what's next.
My job advice to here was just get some good cable, a comfortable couch and lay around and watch TV. Just give up, why bother. I mean (we were in the same age range) all of us, we keep thinking that the next big thing is just around the corner. That it will finally get better when we hit the next milestone and it doesn't. It just stays the same. It doesn't get worse, but it doesn't get better. It's just that one by one my hair is turning gray and that's it. Thanks Jeff Tweedy.
We end up talking for like 30 minutes, she hugs me. Hugs me. Then leaves. I don't even know her name.
This after eating lunch with the senior VP of the fifth largest employer in my state, his treat, and chatting up on the phone one of the most powerful people in a neighboring state.
It was the most random afternoon in recent memory.
Now I have my stereo turned up very loud, Wilco Live for the curious, and wondering what I should go get for dinner. All this and thinking I wish I hadn't quit drinking. Alcohol free for 37 days now and what place in town serves corndogs this late.

Great post, but Woody Guthrie wrote that line. Tweedy just put it to music. And did it quite well.

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Completely my bad. I knew that and brain fart. I promise to do better next time. And tell mw how much love California Stars? Another highlight from another random day a few years back.. Good times.
Since I don't really know how to use the quote function more than once...
I'm pretty sure I know what "merda" means and nice.
Dyepack, I suck most days, at most things. It keeps me going and I'm okay with that.
And no name, no number, no nothing and even better, I don't care. The best thing is that Â I'm not the kind of guy who gets random hugs. And it wasn't like one of those kinds of hugs, but the lingering kind. The good kind, ya'll know what I mean, the ones where the next thing you do is make out. Or leave, which is what she did.

And on a final note, let me give a huge shoutout to Sam Mellinger, perhaps the greatest writer ever for any paper. Truly a shining light for the KC Star. Sir, I salute you.